Never had vessels taken such risks on the Nile
before, never had pilots trusted so to instinct, for there were
sand-banks and ugly drifts of rock here and there. A safe journey for
phantom ships; but these armed vessels, filled by men with white, eager
faces and others with dark Egyptian features, were no phantoms. They
bristled with weapons, and armed men crowded every corner of space. For
full two hours from the first streak of light they had travelled swiftly,
taking chances not to be taken save in some desperate moment. The moment
was desperate enough, if not for them. They were going to the relief of
besieged men, with a message from Nahoum Pasha to Claridge Pasha, and
with succour. They had looked for a struggle up this river as they neared
the beleaguered city; but, as they came nearer and nearer, not a gun
fired at them from the forts on the banks out of the mists. If they were
heard they still were safe from the guns, for they could not be seen, and
those on shore could not know whether they were friend or foe. Like
ghostly vessels they passed on, until at last they could hear the stir
and murmur of life along the banks of the stream.
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